To Sate

Is it ever enough?
I imagine a plot of soil
Sitting for a thousand years
under heavens pouring rain

Yet never floods, no—
Never transformed into the Dead Sea
But condemned to exist
Forever like the surrounding
Deserts of Asia Minor

Is it ever enough?
In Istanbul cats roam the streets
Like every corner is their home.

In my home lives a kitten
Who has not forgotten Istanbul.
Never are enough doors opened
Never are enough crevices searched
Never are enough laps around
The living room ran
And never has he been happy
At the state in which he
Finds his fur.

The Ottoman sultan enters an empty harem.